Archaeornithomimus
by Myrielle
Summary: "You should hear a four-year-old try to say 'Archaeornithomimus'." "You should hear you try to say it." Owen has a very different take on dirty talk.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot. Everything else belongs to their respective creators, owners and producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: "You should hear a four-year-old say 'Archaeornithomimus'." "You should hear you try to say it." Owen has a very different take on dirty talk.

 _A/N: I need to get out of this Claire/Owen pit I've fallen into and in love with. Help. This is based on a post I saw on Tumblr which was about that scene and how Owen was actually kinda turned on. Please don't shoot me. It's just fluff and fun._

 **ARCHAEORNITHOMIMUS**

The first time Claire notices it is when she's trying to sell the idea of the park's latest attraction to Owen. Of course, it is a completely lost cause but just because she knows that doesn't mean she's not going to try. It did come with one very surprising discovery though.

"The Indominus Rex," Owen scoffs, openly mocking the name that she helped to select, thank you very much.

So she rounds on him and snaps back with a roll of her eyes and a haughty tilt of her chin. "We needed something scary and easy to pronounce," she explains to him with a patience that's meant to let him know the name was coined exactly for people like him. "You should hear a four-year-old try to say 'Archaeornithomimus'." Hah, she thinks. Let him wrap his head around that.

Instead, she has to wrap her head around the fact that Owen's eyes spark like green flares in the night, if only for a second, just like they had when she had stood on the last step of his bungalow and put her face, herself, inches from him. He pauses and it's a second too long. He takes a breath and it's a bit too deep just for firing another salvo as she moves away. "You should hear you try to say it."

She's already inside the viewing enclosure, but Claire looks back. Under all that mocking sarcasm, Owen sounds just a little bit rough around the edges. The response lacks its usual teeth and Claire, who is no novice at sniffing out what it is people want because very often, her line of work requires her to use exactly that to get what she wants, suddenly realises the truth when Owen looks over her head and concentrates on what she knows is perfectly commonplace foliage. He could be looking for the dinosaur, but she doesn't think she's wrong.

Owen Grady just got turned on from hearing thirty-two-year-old Claire Dearing say what was a hideously complex dinosaur name. Claire has more important things to do at the moment, and later when she is searching for her nephews and running for her life and theirs and Owen's, she completely forgets about it.

But they go back to the island eventually, when she and Owen have gone for individual therapy to overcome the experience of being face to face with what looked and still seemed like the spawn of hell. They go back and move into his bungalow by the lake because they've fallen into a routine and each other's arms and because it's survival on a frighteningly wondrous level.

And one balmy afternoon, two weeks after Owen manages to track down Blue and Delta and they actually follow him back to the paddock which they had once known as home, Claire joins him and two of his three favourite girls (Owen assures her she's number one but swears her to secrecy because Blue would be hurt). It's a surprise visit though, and he's on the ground floor at the gate when he spies her above on the metal walkway. She's wearing a skirt suit, naturally, but it's something longer that brushes her calves but light enough to curve and flare in the wind. And since the walkway is full of spaces, Claire gets around the problem while keeping her heels. Her Prada platform pumps are a cool hue of grey with a hint of blue under bright lights. She's wearing white once more, clad in office attire as the Operations Manager of Isla Nublar again. Except that Simon Masrani's brother, who now runs the global empire, is not interested in running a theme park. He is interested enough to listen to angry campaigning activists and it is not in the empire's best business to leave captive animals to die of starvation and lack of care on the island. So people are hired and rehired to look after them and Claire offered a job to run those people. She said yes because it was a chance to make things right and because she knew Owen still dreamt of Blue.

"How's it going?" he asks when he reaches her. He would kiss her, but there are people around and Claire does not like public displays of affection, except for that one mind-blowing kiss they shared while dinosaurs fell out of the sky.

"Not too bad. The eggs that Henry took were not in the lab records but it looks like nothing else is missing. I asked the doctors to get rid of the remaining Metriacanthosaurus embryos. We don't need a new generation of carnivores on this island."

"Mmm."

Claire is surprised. "I thought you'd approve."

That seems to jolt him out of wherever he went to in his head. "Oh I do. Definitely."

"But?" Claire presses. She knows her boyfriend.

"I was just thinking that name's as bad as the other one. How'd the kids even say half of that?"

"The other one?" she echoes, searching her memory. It comes like a bolt from the blue (no pun intended). "Archaeornithomimus?"

His expression becomes very intent, dark and deep the way he looks when he hovers over her, when Claire knows there is definitely something on this island that wants to eat her and that she can die a happy death (over and over and over again because Owen loves making her pass out. The scratches on his back, he doesn't love so much but minds much less than probably a lot of guys).

Oh yes, Claire thinks to herself. She definitely remembers. "Well, there were other species with more complex names we were going to bring in." It's a bloody fib and an awful prank but Owen was the one who'd taught her to tease him.

"Really?" he says quickly before looking away. He squints hard at the trees, as though Blue and Delta are going to come just because they sense the force of his gaze.

"Well, there was the Ekrixinatosaurus. Henry thought he could get enough DNA to make a live one. It didn't pan out though, luckily."

"Luckily," Owen concurs gruffly. His hands tighten their grip momentarily on the railing before he forces relaxes them, back in control once more.

Not for long if she can help it. "And then there was the Eustreptospondylus."

She swears she can see little beads of sweat forming at Owen's temples.

"The single fossil found was incomplete and it would have been a quite a coup for InGen if they had been able to produce a living specimen so that the world could have a glimpse at what it looked like." Claire makes a face. "Thankfully that remained nothing more than a proposal."

"And what kind of scary and easy to pronounce name would you have concocted for that?"

"Well, it means 'fire exploding lizard'. We might have settled for Fire Lizard in Latin. However, we were a little concerned with how to translate Dromiceiomimus."

Owen's shifting, moving his weight from one restless foot to the other. If the railing were alive, it would be completely suffocated by his hands right now. He doesn't seem entirely aware of that though. She moves closer so that when the breeze catches her skirt, it flaps against the worn corduroy pants that he wears to work as he checks in on the dinosaurs' welfare and monitors their behaviour. He tells her to make changes to some of the paddocks and Claire listens. He had earned his stripes working with her to save her boys and she knows better now. Of course, some things don't change and the board shorts don't go entirely away. He wears jeans when they go out on dates. Love, after all, is about compromise.

Time to bring out the big guns. "And then there was the Micropachycephalosaurus." And that does it. Owen leans his elbows on the railings and exhales very audibly, hands linked together as though in prayer and Claire laughs because her boyfriend is so trying to hide something that is best not seen in public like that. "I did tell you not to wear pants that tight," she murmurs and Owen whips his head around to glare at her as realisation dawns over him. Plus, it might just be the sun, but Owen's face looks a little flushed, like he's blushing because she's figured out his dirty little secret. He looks adorable and hot. Adorably hot. Damn. Some of that strange verbal foreplay might have backfired on her.

"Claire Dearing..."

Time to run and enjoy sweet victory. Cupping a hand over her mouth so that no one else sees, she whispers "Brachytrachelopan" and darts her tongue out to lick up the curve of his ear. "Have a nice day Mr Grady. Oh look, there's Blue and Delta. They probably want lunch."

She makes it into her car and is in the process of strapping on her seatbelt and congratulating herself on her prank when the door is practically ripped open and in spite of herself, she lets out a small scream. "Owen! You scared me," she hisses. Actually, it's the wild air about him that is somewhat scary but mostly thrilling.

"Drive. Now. Back to the bungalow and make it fast or I won't be responsible for what you started."

Claire bites her lip and squirms and 'Oh God, I'm wet' crosses her mind as she twists the key and starts up the engine. The Coupe lets out a pretty fantastic roar when she floors the pedal and they are gone.

They never make it back to the bungalow though. Halfway there she turns off the main road and the thick foliage probably isn't thick enough to hide them but she can care about that later because right now it's tongue and teeth and her eyes are rolling back because he's put his hand under her skirt and bypassed her silk panties from Victoria's Secret and every awful Christina Aguilera cliché about rubbing her the right way is screaming through Claire's veins as she lifts her hips and jerks and drags him down to her, hands pressed to his back as her fingers claw at his vest and shirt. When she comes, it's with a scream into his mouth. She's fully clothed and struggling hard to just breathe in shallow pants and Owen looks so goddamned smug against a backdrop of steamed up windows.

It's her turn when she pushes him back into the seat and hits the recline switch. "What is with you and those complicated dinosaur names?"

"Tongue twisters," he grins down at her as she is unzipping his pants and pulling that along with his boxers down. Claire blinks up at him. "You know, like being able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue, except that smart women have always turned me on and you, Claire Dearing are _oh fuck..._ " His head slams back against the headrest, he arches so hard he comes off the seat for a second and for one moment Owen actually pulls on her hair before moving his hands elsewhere, attempting to dismantle the insides of her car as she shows him just how right he is about her and her smart tongue. He slams his hand against the fogged up window when she pushes down and takes him all the way down the back of her throat and swallows, again and again.

Owen tries to warn her but Claire doesn't believe in taking prisoners. The raw sound of his smoky, curse-filled groans as he comes is one of the sweetest things she'll ever hear in this world and knowing that she's given him that kind of pleasure feels as good as any that he's ever given her.

Owen swears once more and his voice is as shaky as his legs must feel as he reaches down to pull her on top of him. His heart is hammering against his chest, a fierce strong sound she hopes will go on forever because she needs it to survive. "What about the girls and lunch?" she asks sweetly.

"Barry was there. And he knew something was up."

Claire blushes faintly. Idly, she circles one of the buttons on Owen's shirt. He smells like warmth and sweat and light, like summer at its full strength and she loves him so much, so very much. "You know," she says, carefully undoing one of his buttons before moving on to the next. "I have a whole list of complex dinosaur names."

Owen swallows hard. "You do?"

"We clever girls always do our research."

He laughs, kisses her while he cups the back of her head tenderly, hands tangling in her fiery hair. "I'm all ears."


End file.
